Showing all posts in March 2020

The playground was empty when I parked.  In truth, it hadn’t been full for thirty years.

The sign is faded. The concrete cracked. The paint peeling.

I grew up at this park. If I close my eyes, I can smell the corndogs cooking in the concession stand. I can taste the tang of Fun Dip on my tongue and feel the cheap plastic of the Ring Pop pinching my skin. It never did fit my ring finger.

I fell asleep on summer Saturday nights to the “ping” of metal bats striking softballs. Crowds clapping or booing from the bleachers.  Kids squealing on the monkey bars or the merry-go-round.

The merry-go-round.

We would lay on our backs, my hair dragging in the dirt, and watch the sky as it whirled at what seemed warp speed.  We would run in circles, faster and faster, then jump on as the merry-go-round spun.  When the warp speed spinning was too much – “I want to get off!” someone would scream – we would dig our heels in the dirt, grip the painted-black metal bar and pull our shoulders practically out of socket to make it stop.

I immersed myself in those memories Saturday as I stood alone at Bayview Park. I took pictures to preserve a piece of my past. I did not consider in the moment that it’s a metaphor for my now.

Restricted routines feel like a slow-motion merry-go-round today.  Despite the pace, our minds spin at warp speed.

“I want to get off!” we scream. But we tighten our grip and hold on.

Even before the Coronavirus infected our communities, we braced ourselves against hard things: politics, relationships, or money.

The hard changes. God’s Word does not.

I have carried another piece of my past in my Bible for nearly two years. It’s a Sunday School lesson, or maybe a sermon, written by my daddy. He was studying the Lord’s Prayer.

Daddy writes: (referencing ‘Give us this day our daily bread’)

• v. 11 –   This shows our dependency on God.
• This day – shows us that we need to constantly renew our desire toward Him every day.
• We can’t count on what we had yesterday to get us through today.
• It is hard for a body to go a day without the essentials, things to nourish it, and so is the same with our soul and spirit.

I would add to my daddy’s wisdom that we can’t waste our bread today worrying about whether we will have any for tomorrow.

These hard days will soon, though maybe not soon enough, become a piece of our past. A snapshot. A story.

What will we have to show?  To say?

I haven’t played at Bayview Park in 30 years. When this season of social distancing ends, maybe I will. Maybe I’ll pull my brothers onto that merry-go-round with me, and we’ll ride at warp speed, and watch the world whirl by.

“This, then, is how you should pray:
Our Father in Heaven,
hallowed be your name,
Your kingdom come,
Your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation
but deliver us from evil.
For yours is the kingdom
and the power
and the glory forever.
Amen.

(Matthew 6: 9-13)

The first two weeks of Coronavirus quarantine did not drastically disrupt the natural rhythm of our family. I can’t articulate why except to say we are home almost always anyway.

We have never engaged our daughters in social activities outside of church or school.  There’s a reason, and one day I will tell that story, but it’s not relevant for this writing. 

To compensate, our home and the kids’ contributions to it are fairly relaxed. Our playroom looks like the North Pole exploded.  Bedtime is “ish” on the weekends. We eat pizza and chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese, well, a lot.

I want home to be fun.

I make movie nights extra-special with a smorgasbord of snacks: air-popped popcorn, M&Ms and cotton candy.  I decorate the house to reflect a movie title or theme. Friends have commented on my social media pictures, and I joke that if I’m going to hold the girls hostage at home I had better keep them happy.

As I tucked my oldest, Abby Kate, into bed one night this week I told her we would drive to Birmingham soon to see my mom. She loves Bidee’s house (cable TV!) so I was surprised when her finger drew a pretend tear down her face and she said “But I don’t want to leave our precious house.”

She is clearly social distancing just fine.

Bidee’s house, the home where I grew up, was fairly relaxed, too. My brothers and I had to make our beds and keep reasonably clean rooms. But outside of summer, we didn’t have regular chores.

We weren’t rich (coal miner’s daughter, remember?) but Christmas and birthdays brought pretty good presents. Our screen time was Super Mario Brothers on the original Nintendo game system. The 7-foot-long G.I. Joe U.S.S. Flagg aircraft carrier took up half of our playroom and, before tomboy completely took hold, I had a substantial Strawberry Shortcake collection. (I was never a Barbie girl in the Barbie world.)

Home was fun.

We learned today growing Coronavirus concerns will keep schools closed. We will be home a lot longer. I don’t know what to do except to keep creating fun.

And if or when the natural rhythm of our family is finally disrupted, I will remind myself that this world is not my home.

“For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come. Therefore let us offer through Jesus a continual sacrifice of praise to God, proclaiming our allegiance to His name. And don’t forget to do good and share with those in need. These are the sacrifices that please God.”

(Hebrews 13: 14-16)